


Singing Sentinel

by Needs_to_stop_looking_at_valves



Category: Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Begging, Bets, Dirty Talk, Drinking, Handcuffs, Jazz talking shit, M/M, Praise Kink, Spanking, Verbal Humiliation, Voyeurism, sentinel being full of himself, sentinel getting fucked
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:14:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28205169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Needs_to_stop_looking_at_valves/pseuds/Needs_to_stop_looking_at_valves
Summary: Sentinel and Bumblebee took a bet to see which of their crushes would respond to their advances. Jazz goes after Sentinel, and makes sure he gets proof of just how pathetic Sentinel can be.
Relationships: Bumblebee/Prowl (Transformers), Jazz/Sentinel Prime (Transformers)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 22





	Singing Sentinel

**Author's Note:**

> A Christmas gift for @marblescorner on tumblr! Here you go, I REALLY hope you like it!

"You're lucky you're hot, because you sure as slag ain't smart."

"You just mad because Imma win."

Jazz chuckled. Bumblebee was at the same party he was at, and had somehow gotten stuck to his hip. It was a party started by Sentinel of all mechs (though Cliffjumper was the one who suggested it), in an attempt to boost morale on Cybertron. He was currently trying to ride the popularity wave, caused by the capture of the decepticons. Was he into the party? Judging by his face, not really. Jazz didn't like the guy, but he knew him well. Chest puffed out, voice raised an octave; he didn't want to be here. Everyone on Cybertron was at the party, but no one wanted to give him a lick of attention. 

Everyone except Jazz and Bumblebee, that is. Somehow, in the midst of talking their shit about him, Jazz let it slip that he found Sentinel FINE. This somehow led to a very stupid bet, and Jazz felt stupid for agreeing to it. He lowered his own glass down to Bumblebee’s.

"Aight, you know the deal. You gotta try your hand at Prowler, I try my hand at asschin here."

Bumblebee was about to clink his glass with his, before hesitating. 

"And?"

"And if one of us loses, we gotta 'accidentally' send them a pic of our bits."

"AND?"

"And we need proof that we actually did the dirty dance. Somehow. You know, I have NO clue how you talked me into doin’ this. We’re gonna get our afts beat.”

“It might have to do with the fact that you let me make your drink. It’s good though, isn’t it?”

Jazz had to admit, it WAS good, and he was already on his third cup. He was usually one for moderation, but Bumblebee really talked him into it. They both sighed, clanged their glasses together, and finished the rest of...whatever monstrosity Bumblebee put in there. Jazz set his glass down, parting ways with Bumblebee and joining Sentinel at the bar. Whoever he was just talking to had walked off, leaving him just the opening.

“Yo, Sentinel. What’s kickin’ mech?”

“Definitely not the public interest in me.”

Now that he had no one to gloat in front of, he resorted to his mopey alter ego. He tapped his servo on his currently empty glass, grumbling.

“I just don’t get it. I’m the one that did all the grunt work, why am I getting none of the rewards due to me?”

Jazz shrugged.

“You gotta give bots some time, chief. We JUST won over the decepticons, we’re still riding that high. Plus, you gotta admit, some folks capture the attention.”

They both turned to look at the dancefloor, where Bumblebee was showing everyone how to do ‘the robot’. Was it offensive? Yes, but damn some found it just hilarious. Sentinel rolled his optics.

“I know I told Clifjumper to invite EVERYONE, but I don’t recall including nobody’s to that list.”

“Come on now, you just gotta learn when to get into the swing of things.”

Jazz saw his scowl get even deeper, and Jazz couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. Almost. Not really. He lightly patted him on his shoulder, before motioning him towards the back entrance.

“We could take this party back to my pad.”

“What for?”

“Would you rather stay here and watch the Jettwins get all the attention?”

They both turned to see the twins, totally soaking up attention from a group of fems. Sentinel sighed, before, as per Sentinel fashion, turning his blunder into a supposedly clever idea. His chest puffed out, and he stared into the distance, as if posing for a photo.

“I suppose leaving now would be a good idea. Make the press come to ME. Clever idea, glad I had it. Alright, I’ll lead. From behind.”

Jazz had second thoughts about this, before his optics looked at his thighs. Right. He was terrible, annoying, and loud, but he was FINE. They walked through the backdoor. Wasn’t the only backdoor he was going through tonight.

\----------------------------------------------------------

“I already hate it, my place is better, full of my stuff.”

Jazz sighed as he closed the door behind them. He made decent coin with the job he had, and he lived fairly nicely. But nothing was good enough for this tin head. Sentinel helped himself to a look around his digs, and Jazz just sighed, going up to his bar, and ignoring the fact that he seemed to be judging his furniture. He was still rocking from the drinks at the party, but he needed more if he was going to deal with Sentinel cringing at his choice of decorations. He grabbed a bottle of whatever he had on hand, and went searching for the surprisingly nosey mech. He found the mech in his berth, shrugging. Easier than he thought. Sentinel put his hands behind his helm, seeming to finally make himself comfortable. Jazz used the bottle to motion at him.

“Well, make yourself at home, boss.”

“Already did. It’s more comfier than whatever piece of slag you got out there.”

“You mean my couch?”

“THAT’S a couch?”

Jazz rolled his optics behind his visor, and sat down on the berth next to him. He popped open the bottle, and offered Sentinel the first swig. Sentinel took the bottle, taking a rather heavy swig, especially given that he was an absolute lightweight. Sentinel hugged the bottle, clearly not intending to share it. Jazz decided to drop it, given his sour disposition.

“I’m stuck with you tonight, aren’t I?”

“You have the HONOR of having me over tonight. Don’t forget, you’re on my payroll.”

“How can I forget, you remind me damn near every-”

“Am I fraggable?”

That question came out of NOWHERE. Jazz felt himself stuttering for a second, before finally recalling how speaking worked.

“Where did THAT come from?”

Still laying down pitifully, Sentinel took another swig of the bottle, before groaning.

“I don’t know- just the fact that everyone seems to be hopping all over Optimus. It’s just making ME feel like a bunch of scrap. I mean I know I’m good looking, but everyone else didn’t seem to get the memo. But you’re not as dumb as everyone else, so I’m asking you. Am I fraggable?”

Jazz stuttered for a minute. Normal Sentinel would be satisfied by just saying he was hot, and leaving it at that. DRUNK Sentinel was an entirely different enigma, wanting a specific answer, but refusing to hint at how to help you get to it. Jazz probably should’ve lied, but his processor was too foggy to have anything but a truthful response to that question. He nodded.

“Yeah. I think you are. I think-”

“Name a part of me.”

Sentinel sat up, as if Jazz had accused him of some sort of crime. Jazz clearly looked perplexed, and Sentinel used the now light bottle to jab into his chest.

“Name a part of me that’s attractive. Go on, that’s an order.”

Jazz hated himself at the moment. He was really gonna sit here, and stroke this mechs already huge ego. He swiped the bottle from him, and polished it off in one swig. Little liquid courage never hurt anyone. He sat the bottle at the counter, before leaning forward to better study the other.

“I think your face is attractive. You got nice cheekbones. Not sharp, but like, not soft either. When you ain’t smirkin’ like an aft, it’s kinda nice to look at.”

“Okay, what else?”

Sentinel just refused to be pleased, it seemed. Jazz leaned his helm into his hand, looking him over. With his free hand, his servo dragged down to his chest, and Jazz was surprised. Sentinel seemed oddly okay with being touched.

“Think you got a nice chest. Real nice and big like. Not to mention you got a good set of shoulders on you. They’re big and broad, you could sit here for a while and look at ‘em.”

Sentinel covered his mouth a bit and he chuckled. He was making no motion to stop him in the slightest.

“Okay, but chest is easy, me and Optimus have that in common. What’s something that’s JUST me?”

Jazz still let his servos stroke his chest, really feeling at the nooks and crannies. Primus, he was built to be touched and explored.

“Hmmm...just you.”

He let his hand roam down lower still, trickling down his thigh. He found himself slowly sliding his hand up and down his leg.

“Your legs. Optimus’s are nice, but they aint got anythin’ on these puppies.”

“Hmm..what about them?”

Jazz looked up at his face for a moment, catching the smirk on his face. He was getting into this.

“They’re long. Long, smooth, thick. Honestly it’s one of your better features.”

“Oh, stop…~”

Sentinel chuckled into his palm, as if he was a shy little fem hiding from her crush. Jazz obeyed, keeping himself silent, before Sentinel’s audials laid flat, clearly annoyed.

“I don’t ACTUALLY mean to stop, ya dingbat. Keep telling me how hot I am.”

Jazz lightly put his hands up in defense, getting the picture. Sentinel, drunk or not, was full of himself, and always just a bit moody. Jazz, going with his spike (instead of his common sense), leaned forward, helm pressed against the other’s.

“Okay, okay. I also think you got nice lips. They look...really, really soft. Trust me, people always look at those. Optimus told me he always thought they looked sweet too, but you know, never could confirm that with him.”

Sentinel chuckled smugly. Every Sentinel always got off a little from poking fun at Optimus. If there was something that Optimus wanted from him, Sentinel was ready to wag it in front of his face. Sentinel lightly pushed his helm into his, his hot breath beating onto his lips.

“Well...next time he asks, make him feel jealous, because you’re about to know exactly what it’s like.”

Sentinel pushed his lips onto his own, and Jazz found himself softly groaning into it. His kisses were slow, sloppy, and firm. Jazz would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the feel of the other pressed against him so. Sentinel was about to use his weight to push Jazz onto his back, before he stopped him, servo planted firmly onto his chest. Sentinel parted the kiss, looking down at the hand stopping him. Jazz wanted to go further, but no way in hell was he bottoming for this mech. He had spent too long dealing his scrap to let HIM give it to him. No, SENTINEL was going to absolutely get it. Jazz chuckled, knowing just how to get what he wanted.

“Sentinel, any mech can look good doin’ the fragging. But a REAL mech knows how to show me how it's done, while TAKING it.”

Jazz got out of berth, leaving Sentinel dumbfounded as he went to his dresser. He heard Sentinel stutter behind him as he slyly turned on his camera, before grabbing his favorite pair of stasis cuffs. He wanted proof of this for not only Bumblebee, but for himself. He wasn’t going to show anyone but Bee, but you can’t tell him that fragging his superior isn't a hella confidence booster. He turned back around to a very confused looking Sentinel. Jazz just made a good point, but at the same time; getting it from one of his own underlings? It was like a riddle for this drunk, smug Sentinel. Jazz chuckled as he crawled back into berth, holding his big chin to give him another kiss, then another, just to get him more comfortable.

“Don’t ya wanna be a big mech? Don’t ya wanna prove just how great you are? If you don’t, I might just forget.”

Sentinel’s face scrunched, as if Jazz insulted him.

“Alright, fine. If it’s JUST to show my subordinates that I’M better than them.”

Sentinel pointed at him, and Jazz slapped one of the cuffs around him.

“But of course, commander. Now, lay on ya front, I’ll get ya ready.”

Sentinel hesitated, before doing as he was told. Jazz slapped the other cuff on him, and tied him to the lower part of the bedpost. He stepped back to take it all in; he ACTUALLY had Sentinel tied up in his berth, wanting and waiting for him to get it. Jazz chuckled, servos roaming down his back, slowly and steadily.

“Easy now, Sentinel. I know you’re a hard aft, but ya gotta relax a little. You act like this is the first time you’ve been touched.”

Sentinel gave no response, and Jazz leaned down to his burning face.

“Is it?”

“No! And I’m not gonna sit here and let you taunt m-”

“Don’t get so impatient, Prime.”

Jazz grabbed at his aft, making him shut up. At least for a moment. Jazz’s servos roamed from his upper back, digging into his lower back. Sentinel seemed to relax under his grip, and Jazz couldn’t help but adore how limp he went under him. Sentinel may act big and bad, but apparently he was just a kitten in the berth.

“That’s it...nice and relaxed. You know, you were kinda taking all of this better than I thought you would. Why, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were KINDA into letting someone else take the reins.”

“I don’t even want to look at your face, I can feel you smirking.”

Jazz chuckled in his audial, and from the way his fins perked up, he could tell he was kinda it. Honestly if you gagged him, he’d be ten out of ten. Sentinel was about to say something, probably some means of boosting his own bravado, before Jazz brought his palm down on his aft. It wasn’t a hard hit, but it was solid enough to make a nice sound. Jazz was a nice guy, but dealing with all of his slag for so long, and having him so meek and under him, he couldn’t help it.

“Yeah, maybe I AM smirking. Not my fault I’m into teaching you a lesson. You’ve been goin’ unchecked for a hella long time, Prime.”

“Don’t you try to pull some!-”

He was silenced as he felt the smack on him again. His wrists flexed under the cuffs, and his legs squirmed under him. Jazz was on top of him at this point, and he could feel the heat radiating from his frame.

“Can it. You do a lot of talkin’, bout time you listen. You’re loud, pompous, rude, stubborn, cowardly, and self centered.”

Once he managed to get him to lift his aft up (Sentinel was apparently SUPER responsive to a good spanking), Jazz planted his hand firmly on his helm, and he hooked one leg over one of his. Jazz kept his voice low, and as sincere as possible.

“And I wanna fuck you SO badly.”

It was true. Even day one, Jazz found Sentinel to be a hot piece of metal. He leaned down to click open his valve panel, not at all surprised to see fluid spill onto the berth below. Jazz opened his own spike panel, unsurprised that he was more than ready. He shoved himself past the wet, puffy folds, and nearly keeled over. 

“I knew you were an aft, but damn mech.”

Sentinel’s wet, twitching node was apparently making it harder for him to think, given that he had only a growl of response. Jazz kept one hand on his helm, with his other hand on his aft. He made optic contact with the camera at the desk, and started thrusting against him, constantly pushing his helm up and down to move against his thrusts. He was completely making a fool out of Sentinel; pushing him around and making a show out of it. Little did he know, it’d only get better.

“W-wait, Jazz!”

Jazz stopped his thrusts for a moment. Sure Sentinel was an aft, and he was getting REALLY into his dominating role, but no one deserved to be fragged unwillingly. He pulled on Sentinel’s helm, bringing him closer to his level.

“What? Are you hurting somewhere? Am I going too hard?”

Sentinel panted underneath his grip, clearly overwhelmed by it all. But from the tone he held, Sentinel only wanted more.

“I...I need you to do it harder. A LOT harder. I wanna see your paint scraped off onto me.”

Jazz snickered, before continuing his pace, only making sure his hips nearly crashed against his, making a much louder, lewder sound. He looked back at the camera, mouthing ‘can y'all believe this horndog?’. It was made even better once Jazz got a good listen to the sound that was that moaning. Holy SLAG what a moan. It was loud, desperate, and littered with Jazz’s name.

“Feelin’ good down there, Captain?”

“S-so good!”

“Ah ah ah, you got a big boy voice, use it. Come on, tell me how good you’re gettin’ it~”

Sentinel took a few more poundings, groaning as every thrust pushed his fluids onto the berth below. He swallowed, before finally obeying.

“I’m g-getting it good! SO fucking good!!”

Jazz almost wanted to bust over laughing. Jazz was begging for him, hot valve enveloping his spike like it was MADE for him. Jazz, wiping some drool off with his shoulder, spoke down to Sentinel. Quite literally.

“You may be the captain, but you’re doin’ a hella good job at taking orders, ain't you? Just for that, imma be good to ya. Imma stuff this valve full of me, and you’re gonna like it, ain’t ya Sentinel?”

Sentinel answered him with a nod, and some loud, pathetic mewlings. Jazz’s spike, held so tightly and so warmly, didn’t last very long at all. He shoved Sentinel’s face down to the pillow, pulled his now soaking, throbbing spike out of his gaping valve, and after lowering his visor a bit to wink at the camera, SLAMMED himself back inside his valve. He overloaded after Sentinel screamed from the force, clearly overloading from the rough treatment. Jazz chuckled at the mix of fluids below them, and made a peace sign towards the camera, even sticking out his glossa in his gloating. Sentinel was knocked out under him, stuffed of his fluids, and Jazz had all the proof in the world.

Who knew such a loud mech made such sweet music?


End file.
